The three of us sat at the dining table, devouring the spaghetti and garlic bread that Billy and Henry had prepared. Henry’s laughter as he twirled his spaghetti was infectious. He was an absolute mess but I wasn’t even upset. Rather than feeling another weight dropping on my shoulders knowing I’d have to give him a heavy duty bath tonight, I relaxed a bit easier knowing Billy was here to help me. For the first time in days, I felt the ghost of a smile play on my lips.
After dinner, I helped Henry with his bath and then tucked him into bed. Reading him a bedtime story, I cherished the way his small hands clutched his teddy bear, and how his eyes drooped as sleep claimed him. My worries were still there, but seeing him sleep peacefully was a small comfort.
As I closed Henry’s bedroom door behind me and headed downstairs, I noticed the clattering of dishes had ceased. The living room was tidied up, the dishes done and the remnants of our dinner put away.
Billy was in the recliner instead of on the couch where we had sat last night. It struck me as odd, and a surge of apprehension gripped me. His face was stern, his fingers drumming on the armrest.
“We need to finish our talk from last night,” he stated firmly, as I entered the living room. He motioned to the couch, making it clear where he wanted me.
My heart raced as I slowly walked toward the couch and hesitated, not sure if taking a seat was a good idea. Doing so meant obeying him. And that felt like admitting something huge. I could feel the tension rising between us as I sat down.
“I need to know, Michael,” Billy’s voice was steady and calm, “Do you want my help in letting go of the stress and responsibilities?”
Well then, apparently he wasn't wasting any time easing into this. I swallowed hard. This was what I had yearned for, but admitting it out loud was terrifying. With a barely audible whisper, I replied, “Yes.”
Billy leaned forward, studying me intently. “I’ve known you for years, Michael. You’ve always been a switch, haven’t you?”
My breath caught in my throat. How did he know? I had never spoken of it, never explored my submissive side.
“Have you ever unpacked your desire to let someone else take control for a change?” Billy pressed on.
My shoulders slumped, and I dragged my gaze away from his face. I shook my head slowly as I studied the dust on the coffee table.
“Do you want to?” His voice was languid and alluring, as if he knew the full power of what possibilities lay just beyond his words. My heart raced, my palms sweaty as I looked up at him. He stood before me, a commanding presence, waiting for my answer. The air between us thickened with anticipation, urging me closer and closer to surrendering to his will.
A torrent of emotions coursed through me. The prospect of surrendering control was both enticing and overwhelming. I was frightened of how this would affect my relationship with Henry and my ability to be a good father. Moreover, I was scared about getting emotionally entangled with Billy, especially after what had happened with his brother.
My voice quivered as I spoke. “Yes. But…”
“But?” Billy urged.
“I need to know that we… that this can work between us after everything that’s happened.” I curled my legs up on the couch, trying to get comfortable. No, that was a lie. I felt exposed, as if Billy had the ability to stare straight through me to see the secrets I didn’t share with anyone, and wanted to make myself as small as possible. “How can I give up control when I have Henry to take care of?”
Billy walked over to the couch, sitting down next to me. His gaze softened, and his voice was a soothing balm as he spoke, “We’ll take it slow, Michael. We’ll communicate, and we’ll be honest with each other. And if, at any point, you feel like it’s affecting your role as a father or anything else, we can reevaluate. You have my word.”
Slowly, he extended his arm, offering me a safe haven. Hesitantly, I leaned into him, allowing his warmth to envelop me.
As we sat there, Billy holding me gently, a sense of calm washed over me. It was as if the storm inside me began to subside. With Billy's words, the hope that had been kindling in my heart began to burn brighter.
After a few moments, Billy spoke again, his voice softer. “When was the last time you just relaxed and watched TV or did something just for yourself?”
I thought for a moment and realized I couldn’t remember.
Billy reached for the remote and turned on the TV. He flipped through the channels until he found a nature documentary.
“Perfect,” he muttered, sitting back and wrapping his arm securely around me. There wasn’t a trace of sarcasm in the word even though I knew he’d rather watch paint dry than any sort of documentary.
As the images of lush forests and exotic animals filled the screen, I found my thoughts drifting away from work and stress. I started to feel lighter, like a part of me was healing.
I didn’t know when my eyes began to close, but the next thing I remembered was waking up in the early hours of the morning, still leaning on Billy’s shoulder, his steady breaths lulling me back to sleep.
“Hey, we need to get you into bed.” Billy's voice was rough with sleep. We were far too old to pass out in a heap on the couch; we'd both be lucky if we could move in the morning.
“I'm not the only one,” I protested as Billy carefully pushed me upright. He kept worrying about me, but I knew he was up with the sun every day and didn't go to bed until well after midnight.
Neither of us said anything as he led me to the bedroom. He waited outside the bathroom door with his hands in his pockets while I brushed my teeth and relieved myself. When I opened the door, he entwined his fingers with mine for the short walk to the end of the hall.
“Do you need to check on Henry before you go to bed?” He'd never picked on me for my obsessive need to watch my little boy sleeping.
